


Sweet (rotting), growth (decaying), love (obsessing)

by ADyingFlower



Series: I'm only doing this because I love you [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Conditioning, Dark Keith (Voltron), Force-Feeding, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obsession, Past Child Abuse, Pet Names, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADyingFlower/pseuds/ADyingFlower
Summary: “Can’t you just tell me beforehand?” His sweetheart pleads with him, curling around the wrist tied to the armrest. “Please? I’ll drink it or eat it, but I can’t trust whatever you give me…”Keith considers it for a long moment, tapping his fingers against his elbow. In all honesty, he doesn’t really want to, not with Lance’s tendency to try and bolt at the slightest provocation.  But he can also see Lance’s point - if he keeps drugging him without telling him, Lance will never willingly eat anything he gives him. And he can't keep force-feeding him, it makes both of themsomiserable.“Fine.” He agrees, suppressing a smile at Lance’s exhilarated expression. “On two conditions. One, you drink every drop of it and don’t try to wiggle out of it. And two, if I catch youevertrying to puke it back up again,” Keith leans forward, gripping onto Lance’s armrests tightly. “I’ll rip out a couple of your teeth. Got it?”(Over a month into his captivity, Keith and Lance start to set boundaries, and Keith muses what he's willing to do to keep Lance)





	Sweet (rotting), growth (decaying), love (obsessing)

**Author's Note:**

> 3/12

“Sweetheart,” Keith hums, leaning his hip against the kitchen table. “How do you like the soup?”

“It’s good.” Lance nods his head slightly, swinging his feet happily. He’s recently earned back table-sitting privileges after two weeks of good behavior - having tried to run away when Keith brought him outside. (Silly Lance, thinking he could outrun Keith in his own home territory). He pouted terribly at having lost all of his perks, back to sponge baths and being hand-fed and no books. (Though Keith gave him back the books after one day, too heartbroken to resist Lance’s quietly devastated expression for long). Slowly, he’s winning them back one by one, yet Keith's reluctant to try the outdoors again. Maybe once Lance behaves for a whole month. 

So instead, he has the front door open with the screen door in place to block out the insects, the winter chill being enough not to bother with the air conditioning.

A smile rises, unbidden, on his face at Lance’s delighted expression. He knows it’s one of Lance’s favorite foods, but he’s glad that he likes it so much. Keith got a lot of weird looks for butchering the Spanish pronunciation at the supermarket, yet it’s worth it. _So_ worth it, for even a fraction of that wonderful smile he spent _months_ following.

“I have to go out today,” Keith says, out of the blue. Lance slowly swallows his bite, looking up at him with big, bottomless blue eyes as he slowly places the spoon back in the bowl. It’s nearly empty, anyhow.

“Oh.” Lance draws back, looking vaguely betrayed. He knows what Keith just did.

Hopefully, they won’t have to go back to force-feeding again. Keith had scratch marks down his forearm and his face for _weeks_ and bite marks on his fingers, but he was getting desperate, Lance hadn't eaten anything he offered in four days, only drinking water he personally saw Keith draw from the tap. Lance ended up gagging on the broth more often than not, tossing his head side to side and small hands trying to thrash out of his hold. 

But Keith held, held Lance down for hours until he was sure there was no way for his sweetheart to puke any of the broth up, sticking his pretty fingers down his throat like the last few times Keith managed to force him to swallow anything by holding his nose shut and covering his mouth until reflex kicked in. 

And what do you know? Lance went back to eating, after that. 

“Can’t you just tell me beforehand?” His sweetheart pleads with him, curling around the wrist tied to the armrest. “Please? I’ll drink it or eat it, but I can’t trust whatever you give me…”

Keith considers it for a long moment, tapping his fingers against his elbow. In all honesty, he doesn’t really want to, not with Lance’s tendency to try and bolt at the slightest provocation.  But he can also see Lance’s point - if he keeps drugging him without telling him, Lance will never willingly eat anything he gives him. And he can't keep force-feeding him, it makes both of them _so_ miserable. 

“Fine.” He agrees, suppressing a smile at Lance’s exhilarated expression. “On two conditions. One, you drink every drop of it and don’t try to wiggle out of it. And two, if I catch you _ever_ trying to puke it back up again,” Keith leans forward, gripping onto Lance’s armrests tightly. “I’ll rip out a couple of your teeth. Got it?”

Lance pales, hurriedly nodding. Good. He really doesn’t like threatening Lance like this, and he hates the idea of following up on it either, but…sacrifices must be made in order to keep Lance in his place.

They’ve never had a repeat of the punching incident, which was a miracle. Keith didn’t want to hurt Lance, but he felt the sting in his lip and the familiar taste of blood and all he could think was of foster family after foster family, and all he wanted to do was punch back, beat his attacker until they were black and blue, _don’t stop_ -

But then Lance had screamed, and his heart cracked in his chest at the sound.

Keith never wanted to hurt Lance, he just…loses control sometimes. He doesn’t mean to. It’s not his fault.

_It's not his fault._

“C’mon,” He murmurs, good mood suddenly lost.

Lance lets him unlock his arm, Keith helping him slowly over to the bed, carefully stepping over the yoga mat. Lately, he’s started making Lance do at least thirty minutes of exercise a day. It gives him several bonuses - for one, it helps burn off all of Lance’s excess energy and curb some of his restlessness. Another is that he can fully enjoy experiencing Lance’s flexibility firsthand. Keith has never been more blessed than watching Lance drop into a straight split wearing just an old t-shirt of Keith's and a pair of gym shorts. 

Carefully, gently, he helps Lance lay down, guiding his head with soft hands to the pillow. The drugs haven’t hit quite Lance’s neurological system, but yet he still tucks Lance’s arms over his stomach, making sure that the collar and ankle cuff aren’t chafing. All to make Lance comfortable as possible during his drugged sleep.

When Keith leans back just to stare at Lance, he’s hit by the uncomfortable feeling that Lance looks dead, eyes half-lidded, skin pale and hands crossed limply on his abdomen.

“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” He decides, spur of the moment, hurriedly sitting back down by the pillow. Lance doesn’t reply for a long moment, gaze still lost somewhere on the far wall, and Keith feels his heart skip a beat. The measurements were right, weren’t they? He didn’t accidentally overdose Lance, did he?

But then Lance sluggishly blinks, slowly drawing his eyes away from the wall and towards Keith. “...Oh...kay…”

He smooths his thumb across Lance’s forehead, humming quietly to his dear. Slowly, Lance’s eyes begin to close, succumbing to the drugged sleep.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, leaning over to peck his cheek. It’s not much, but it should be enough for him to get to the store and back without his love waking up. And even if it does, it disorients Lance enough that he doubts Lance will be aware enough to take off his restraints, never mind to make it to the locked door.

Keith shudders at the thought of the flunitrazepam. He…knew there would be side effects, that Lance would be a little sick afterwards, but _god_ , it was so much worse. Lance couldn’t keep anything down for days, and his eyes held a glassy, sick sheen to them the entire time.

In the end, the flunitrazepam was shoved to the back of the cupboard underneath the bathroom sick, never to used again, and Keith changed to a lighter, over the counter sedative for the trips out of the house. It wasn’t as effective, and didn’t keep Lance under for long, but it’s safer and the only side effects were some grogginess and made Lance’s hands shaky for a while.

(He didn’t mind. Not when it meant he could hold those trembling fingers between his own, like a butterfly’s wing, oh so fragile and delicate beneath him.)

And as much as it pains him, he _does_ need to go out for groceries and errands. He has a huge gift in mind for his sweetheart, and for that, he needs wood, among other supplies.

-

Keith parks his car near the back of the lot, letting the back of his head just rest against the seat for a long moment.

It’s only been a half an hour, but yet every part of him craves for Lance’s touch, his laugh, his shy smiles. It’s an addiction he can’t cure, and one he doesn’t want to. He needs Lance, in moments like these, far away from his home and out where other’s eyes could dig like maggots under his skin.

_I’ll be home soon_ , he assures himself, holding his own arms in a parody of an embrace.

He’s so cold without his Lance.

Stepping out of the car, he fixes his sunglasses once more before heading into the air conditioned store. He has the paperwork, printed out from the library, on what he needs, so all that matters is finding the right supplies.

Which, on any other given day would be fine. But it seems his luck has been on the down low, because of fucking course he would cross paths with James Griffin right as soon as he makes his purchases at the hardware store.

_Of course. Of fucking course._

“Kogane,” Griffin greets him stiffly, eyeing him like he’s _diseased_. Ass. “Good to see your alive. When are you going to pay me back?”

Keith grunts, studiously avoiding eye contact. “Soon.”

He’s only allowed a certain amount of his inheritance a month - court mandated, but the guy who sold the flunitrazepam wanted the cash up front. And Keith was getting desperate - the smaller friend caught on to the fact that someone broke into their house, having come home much, _much_ quicker than expected from class - it must have been cancelled, or something, he doesn't really care. In the end, he had to leave earlier than planned, and with only a quarter of the files that he wanted from Lance’s computer downloaded onto his flash drive. The incident scared him enough he moved his plan up a month, borrowing money to cover what he was hoping his inheritance would have.

It was a shame, too. Lance’s google photos were linked to his phone, and his shy selfies and stolen underwear was enough to get Keith off for _weeks_. Too bad Lance was too self-conscious to take nude photos, though Keith can’t really complain when it means that no one else would have photos quite like his own.

Those photos are hidden in a box under the bed. He tried showing them once to Lance, and Lance paled so quickly that Keith was worried he would faint. He wouldn’t talk to Keith or even look at him for the rest of the day, either.

Keith knows it must be scary - to know how much Keith loves him. It scares himself, too.

“It better be.” Griffin scoffs, storming past him into the store.

Ass.

At least the next thing he has to accomplish - grocery shopping - cheers him up. He imagines Lance walking beside him, maybe holding his hand. Lance’s red rimmed eyes glancing around the store in fascination, tugging on Keith excitably.

God, he misses Lance.

Soon. He’ll be home soon.

Keith keeps his gaze down on the ground as he unloads his cart at the checkout, ignoring whatever small talk the cashier tries to make with him.

“ _-the missing case of teenager Lance McClain continues to sweep the nation, as Cuban authorities continue to push US officials on his whereabouts -”_

His eyes flick over to the small TV or radio coming from the manager's office, even as his hands continue to move. In all honesty, he wasn’t that worried about them finding Lance, he covered his tracks pretty well.

It was a pain in the ass to send that letter though, he had to deliver it to Lance’s old apartment without getting any fingerprints on it, or any of the CCTV catching him. And that was after scrapping the first four drafts of Lance's writing, each of them trying to give too much information, carefully worded as they were. Keith wasn't stupid. But his sweetheart had begged him with those big blue eyes, whining softly as he tugged on Keith’s shirt, and he couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

He would serve the world on his platter if it meant it would make his Lance happy.

Keith would do anything -

Anything but let him go.

The sooner Lance learns that, the better. For both of them.

-

When he gets home, Lance’s sitting up in bed bleary eyed, mumbling quietly to himself as his fingers twitch in his lap.

“Hi, love.” He greets softly, dropping the groceries on the kitchen counters. Keith can always unpack them later - Lance needs him.

Striding over quickly, he cups Lance’s cheek, smoothing a thumb under his eye. Lance leans into his touch, still speaking to himself as his mind floats off somewhere Keith can’t reach.

Involuntarily, his hand spasms.

“Lean back for me, darling.” He requests softly, not waiting for his beloved to answer before he pushes Lance down, straddling him quickly as Lance’s upper body collapses against the bed, arms discarded loosely by his side and gaze still lost somewhere above them.

For a long while, Keith just watches his sweetheart be consumed by the drugs, both here yet not. He knows from experience that Lance won’t remember anything for a while yet, and that it’s best to just let Lance come back to his body in his own time, leaving this shell of Lance empty and pliant under his touch.

Keith pauses, his hands trailing down Lance’s chest to hover over the waistband of his loaned sweatpants. Theoretically, it’s not like Lance will remember this, right? Maybe he can just masturbate right here, get it out of his system and all that. He's been pent up for weeks - he tried to masturbate in front of Lance a little while ago, and all it did was make his love burst into tears. Never had a boner killed so fast in his life. 

After a moment, he sighs, dropping his hands. No, no, he promised he wouldn’t force Lance into sex. He has to apply just enough pressure for the finest of cracks, worm his way into Lance’s heart and mind just like Lance dug into his. Not to shatter him beyond repair.

Tenderly, he interlinks his fingers with Lance, bringing the limp arm up to kiss the inner wrist. “I love you,” he murmurs into the soft skin, trailing his nose down the delicate veins.

“Mmm, Keith? 'm hungry, feed me.”

His head snaps up, broken forcibly out of his revere. Lance blinks tiredly at him, rubbing his face with his free hand. “How long was I out…?”

Keith drops the hand he’s holding, but keeps their fingers loosely touching. “Only a couple of hours. I got you some of those garlic knots from Tony’s pizzeria as a treat.”

“You did?” Lance shouts, shooting up in his seat, accidentally choking himself for a moment before he found a good spot to sit and not cut off his air flow at the same time, leaving their faces inches apart. “Fuck, I hate this damn thing.”

Keith scowls, slapping his nose and ignoring Lance’s yelp. “No swearing. You’re too good for that kind of language.”

Lance sticks his tongue out at him.

Both of them stop, staring incredulously at each other.

“Did...you just stick your tongue out at me?”

Slowly, Lance nods. “Y-yeah.”

He can’t. Keith’s shoulders shake silently, his lips pursed together.

The two of them start laughing at the same time, heads turned together. Keith’s chest feels tight - but in a good way. Like all the anxiety and anger are bleeding out, a poison devouring another inside of him.

“You’re so cute,” he admits between breathless chuckles, cupping Lance’s face between his hands. His eyes drift down to Lance’s mouth, wondering if Lance tastes like their toothpaste, or maybe that vanilla chapstick Keith gave him last week. He knows Lance usually goes with cherry or orange flavored, but he likes the subtler tastes more, personally. If he’s going to be making out with Lance soon, then the boy has to at least have nice feeling lips.

Andddddd Lance notices where his gaze is, stiffening up underneath him. Keith sighs, reluctantly letting Lance free. Damn.

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

Keith slowly gets out of Lance’s lap, pressing one last gentle kiss to the crown of his head. Even now, groggy from the drugs in his system and hands shaking like a baby bird, he’s still the most beautiful person in the world to him.

“I adore you, you know that?” He asks, the corner of his lips turning up a bit as Lance flushes a pretty pink color.

After a moment, Lance nods, lips pressed together so tightly that they turned white. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “I know.”

No, he really doesn’t. No one can understand this love, not even him. This obsession that sinks into his bones in every waking moment.

Keith would literally die if Lance left him. That’s why Lance’s staying here, cared for and protected and where no one else can lay their fucking filthy eyes on this one pure thing that Keith managed to obtain for himself.

Lance is the only star in his sky, and he’ll craft the loveliest of prisons, the strongest of bars to keep his sweet little bird trapped inside, sheltered from the world until he knew only Keith. He doesn’t seek to break his love, only to make him _understand_. He’ll never be unloved with Keith, never want for anything in his life.

All he has to do is stay.

But for now, he'll enjoy what he can, with his own beautiful, perfect star. 

**Author's Note:**

> Next: Please


End file.
